So this has been coming, and it is poetic that the match was broken, like South Africa, by another try that might sit well in the grainy footage of a Charlie Chaplin film. Ruan Combrinck and Jonny May bumped into each other and fell over, the former shovelling the ball on to Willie le Roux, who missed it. Then it was Pat Lambie and Mike Brown colliding and falling over, with that slippery sucker of a ball bouncing impishly away again, until Courtney Lawes dotted it down, just about, while others stood around bewildered.

It was an absolute warthog of a try. And it was the end of the match for South Africa.

We thought the Springboks would come out swinging. The pack they had picked was monstrous; they had the indignity of that 57-point hiding to work through their system; England had not played for months. And the rain was falling at Twickenham. Perfect conditions to rough up a side who are on a bit of a roll.

For half an hour, they were true to that script. Those bruising 19-stoners worked away at the heart of an England pack who for a while did look a little soft. The penalty count ticked over in South Africa’s favour, 6-0 up, then 9-7 with half-time approaching. A side so low on confidence had something to work with.

Then, boom. Or, rather, prick, then pop. Owen Farrell’s first penalty, followed swiftly by that farcical try, and South Africa were all over the place again.

England 37-21 South Africa: player ratings from Twickenham

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Allister Coetzee, the South Africa coach, observed afterwards that it was just a lack of concentration/composure/organisation (delete cliche as applicable), but coaches always say that. And it almost always is a momentary lapse in basics that initiates, and sustains, each unravelling of a team in crisis. Let’s not go into the defensive lapses for tries three and four.

The “but for silly mistakes” line is a favourite of coaches under pressure, trying to give the impression that the underlying structures are fine, that they have only a couple of kinks to straighten out before all is well. But it is a thin argument. In theory, if a team makes all its tackles and holds its defensive line, then tries would never be scored. At least on the chalkboard.

On the field, maintaining one’s basics is a manifestly difficult feat, when the lungs burn and the opposition, irritatingly, keep putting pressure on you. The measure of a side is how they react to the inevitable errors, not just the amount of pressure they can handle before they make them. By both counts, this South Africa team are where the world knows them to be – in a desperate place.

They came to bully England but imploded at the first sign of any trouble. The details of how they actually did it, the silly mistakes they made, are just that, details. The broader picture is far bleaker. Whatever the troubled circumstances in South African rugby – and they have always been there – the sport is in danger of losing as a credible force one of its most famous exponents. Nobody benefits from it.